I Understand Your Pain
by Amzedel
Summary: Becky, though she goes by Rebecca now, is doing fine. She running for district attorney, and though she's still getting over her secretary's disappearance, she's ok. Until, one very important trial opens a can of worms she can't control. On hiatus for a while, sorry.
1. Chapter 1

**For anyone who hasn't read my other stories, this is a bit of continuation of The Dormouse and Alice (In the Batman: The Animated Series section), in case you're confused about anything in here.**

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><p>I wasn't sure why I was so anxious. I've had plenty of cases before this… but this was my first time against a rogue. Well, technically, she wasn't a rogue, she had only been in Arkham once, and that was because she was too unstable to be trialed. Still, this was very important. If I was able to convict her as the true criminal she was, instead of the psychopathic loon her lawyer tried to convince the jury she was, it would really help me in the running for district attorney.<p>

That's right, I, Rebecca D. Albright, at the age of thirty, am in the running to become Gotham's newest district attorney. The voting is in four months, but people were already campaigning. I'm not one for posters and ads that flashed a false smile to no one in particular. I didn't do too well in getting people on my side. I wasn't exactly a social person, but I got the job done. I get results.

As I walked through the courtroom, my cane clanking on the marble floors, I felt the eyes of everyone there on me, what else was new? Still, there was one pair that caught my attention. The calm almond eyes of the defendant stared out. It was normal for them to glare towards me with contempt or even flash an overconfident smirk. But this woman, she looked at me in… wonder, as if she couldn't believe we were there, facing each other. She seemed familiar for a second. But then, she just smiled and looked away.

Judge Williams was a very punctual woman who had a no sense attitude about her. She believed in doing thing fast and efficiently, without any screw-ups. That certainly won't going well for the defendant, who had a record of both disruptiveness and unprofessionalism, as I had read from her files. The judge read from her own files, while staring down at the offender with distaste written on that sour face of hers.

"Evangelina Rosario Torrez, you are accused of executing a escape from Arkham, as well as causing a riot, destroying a wall in the western part of the asylum, and assault on several of the guards. How do you plead?

"Your honor," Evangelina's lawyer, Charles Bradford, a cocky man that shamelessly defends these criminals, spoke up, "We plead not guilty by reason of insanity."

"Very well, present your first witness."

"We'd like to ask Dr. Joan Leland to the stand." The doctor walked to the witness stand calmly, obviously having done this before.

"Dr. Leland," Charles started, he waved his hand half-heartedly, as if this was a trivial matter not important enough for his full attention. "My client was a patient at Arkham Asylum after her first trial, where she was, in fact, deemed 'unstable' and therefore unable to stand before a jury, correct?

"Yes, but at the time we weren't certain of-"

"But, she was **mentally unstable**, correct?" Bradford interrupted her.

She sighed, "Yes, she was." Without another word he left back to sit beside Eva, waiting for Rebecca to question the doctor. To say that he was a pain in the side of all the state attorneys of the city would be an understatement. I bit my lip and built up the nerve to go up against that smug snake of an attorney.

Finally, I stood in front of the witness to ask, "Dr. Leland, you treated Miss Torrez for the time that she was in Arkham before she escaped. In that time, what would you say is your diagnosis of her?"

"Eva has a borderline personality disorder. She has moments where she idealizes those around her, as she did her parents, and times where she demonizes them, which is what led her to kill her first victim. She is unstable in regards to her self-image, and it leads to periods of disassociation, like in her last trial, which is why she was unfit to be trialed by jury."

"What normally causes this," I asked. I had done some research on mental disorders before, so I have heard of borderline personality disorder, but I never really read up on it.

"Many believe that it might be caused by abuse and neglect from her parents, and from the stories that she's told me, it's very likely."

"How so?"

"Well, Eva is known to be very defense about her parents; she never realized the negative actions of them. She had grown up in poverty, she always said that she had very little to eat, but every time she spoke about her mother, she'd be described as healthy and beautiful, and she was up until her death. It's this leads me to believe that her parents withheld food from her for themselves. There was also the constant rumors of her family being criminals that she had to live with, one's that ended up true. "

"That's not true!" A voice cried behind them. Eva had risen from her seat. She was visibly shaking with rage, and struggling to get out of her metal handcuffs.

"My parents loved me and did everything to keep me alive, even if it meant stealing!" The woman yelled, crying for the honor of her family.

"It's you, you people that don't understand them, that's why you killed them. You sent your little cops to murder my family!"

"Quiet down, Miss Torrez or I will hold you for contempt of court," The judge did not back down to Eva's fury, standing solid, she stared down towards the ranting woman.

"Do I look like I give a damn? It needs to be said. You're all murderers, **murderers**!" All through this I stood, incredulous that that slimeball of a lawyer could let her do this. Some people would do anything to win a case.

"You see your honor; my client is obviously not in any state of sanity!" He shouted above Eva's threats of death and blood. Just when she was about to attack the judge, two burly men grabbed her, forcing her into a straight jacket. Still she resisted, screaming the most psychotic, broken wail that a person could.

"That's it! Miss Torrez you will be sent back to Arkham and you will be put into three weeks of solitary confinement."

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><p>I moaned, that had to have been the shortest trial I'd ever had, and certainly the most embarrassing. Then again, it probably wasn't wise of me to have brought up the personal issues of a mad woman. This wasn't going to help me in any way. I sat on the bench outside the courtroom doors, still thinking about how it went so wrong. Just as I was about to leave, the guards had shown up to escort Eva back to Arkham. She smiled towards me.<p>

"I don't blame you, this worked out for everyone," she said while they walked passed me. I wasn't about to respond, I've had enough contact with psychos.

"Alice is fine by the way. I thought you'd like to know."

"Wait what?" I stopped her guards. What could this woman possibly know about her secretary that's been missing for over a month?

"Alice, she's okay, I knew you worried." The grin on her face made my blood boil.

"You know where Alice is? What did you do to her?" It's true that Alice and I hadn't been close; to be honest I barely talked to her outside of work. But I was protective of her, she'd gone through the same thing I did, only, she didn't put it behind her as much as I did. I just… didn't want to think of what this _person_ could do to her.

"Have more faith in your past employees, boss." She said that with a voice that reminded me of… Caroline.

"You… No." No, no that can't be true. This, this rogue couldn't have been my other secretary, I couldn't have hired a…

"We're sorry miss, but we have to take her."

"Wait"

"Bye, Ms. Albright." How could I… I let Alice… I felt so ashamed. I just let Alice, that poor lost woman; get captured by a known killer. And… I told Carroline, Eva, I told her about what happened to me, and she… she **knows him.**


	2. Chapter 2

The noise has gone down; it's most likely do to the recent escape of most of the rogues in Arkham. I haven't yet decided if this is a good or bad thing. On one hand, the silence is very much a blessing after the constant screaming, well the screaming that isn't a result of my interference, on the other, it's so eerily quiet, as if all activity has ceased. Actually, it's quite interesting to see the effects on the other relatively "normal" inmates. You see, most had taken to becoming followers of some of the other more influential rogues, without they're "leaders" they're completely lost.

There has been one rogue that has been captured though, so I don't think the silence will last. In fact, the guards are bringing her over right now. Oh, and right next to my cell, _how wonderful_. And now that the guards are leaving I expect contact through the slight hole in the wall any minute now.

"Hey, Jonny." Her voice was cheerful, a defense mechanism obviously, she hates showing any weakness towards others.

"Did you miss me?" Always so informal, Eva honestly acts as if we've been close friends for years. I have no real malice towards her, but conversations with her are often very stale. Anything interesting from her past life is locked away from prying eyes and ears, though sociable, she goes through great lengths to avoid close relationships. One of the few intelligent decisions she's made.

"I'm guessing the judge bought your act."

"And how do you know about that? I thought you had your TV rights revoked for three weeks." I had tried to escape only a few days before Eva had started that riot to get Jervis out, resulting in me being constrained throughout the entire ordeal. I still haven't gotten over that.

"Eddie told me; apparently Mr. Bradford played the, my client-is- too-insane-to-stand-trial card."

"Yeah, he's a slimy underhanded jerk… I kept his number." Everyone was aware of Bradford's tricks, but Eva's mental instability was just as well-known by now.

"So, was it **all **a ploy?"

"What exactly are you implying?" A slight crack in her voice, it's seems there's a chink in the armor.

"Oh I'm not **implying** anything," It's true, I'm not one to beat around the bush, "I am, however, **saying** that the reason you evaded Blackgate is not because of your acting skills."

"You have no reason to think that." Always in denial, frankly it gets old after a while.

"Don't I? Did they stand there, while you cried in hunger? In the winter, when the weather became unbearable, were they comfortably wrapped in blankets, while you were left a rag?" She doesn't respond immediately.

"Jon, I just got back, I'm in no mood to play patient right now." I could hear the contempt in her voice; she was so much more interesting this way. She won't yell at me though, no, she's too scared of me, especially after our first encounter. As so many before her, she knows my power.

"It's just that, I heard that you seemed so angry when Joan brought up your parents' neglect." I waited for a moment. She didn't answer.

"Fine, fine, another subject, how was the trial?" After all, I enjoy doing these kinds of things over a period of time. You can't just poke through the mind; it's complex and takes a bit of time to really understand. Besides, there's nothing else here to keep me entertained.

"Easier than I thought, weird thing though… I saw my old boss."

"Boss?"

"You know, I told you that I got a job to get closer to Alice." Oh yes, Eva had apparently influenced Alice while on the outside. Poor girl seems to have finally lost her sanity if she was willing to conspire with a known criminal and blast a hole through Arkham. Actually, I applaud her for that last part.

"It was a little awkward for me, especially after she told me about her "incident", but I guess it went over well. You should have seen the look on her face when I mentioned Alice, looked like Ms. Albright was going to kill me."

"Albright?" No, I must have misheard her, "Becky Albright?"

"Uh… Rebecca, yes."

"What does she look like?" It really can't be the same Becky, can it?

"Why does it matter?" It matters plenty.

"What does she look like?"

"She's a little shorter than me, pale skin, red hair, freckles…" No.

"Walks with a cane?"

"Yes." It is her. I-I had thought she moved. I had been looking for her for three years after that incident. I searched all over once I had escaped.

"What's wrong, you know her?"

"Yes, very well, in fact." It's been ten years, ten years of jokes and questions about 'Becky Albright'. She has created so much-

"Wait… you're her stalker!"

"What? When did she tell you that!" Me a _stalker_, **the nerve of that girl.**

"Well, she didn't use stalker, per se, but it was in context" I see that she's still lying to herself.

"I assure you, everything she told you was probably some delusion fabricated by her to make her believe that she made the right decision." This new information has opened up a world of opportunities. I've never forgotten about Becky, something like that can't just be hand waved away.

"Decision in what, exactly?"

"Now who's prying into other people's lives?"

"Hey, I helped Alice and Jervis last time, maybe I can help you." The situation is hardly the same. She has connections in the Gotham underground though, I may ask about that later…

"Yes, well, I'd prefer you not get too involved."

"Why?"

"This is a personal matter. Becky and I have a lot to catch up on."

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><p><strong>I realize that Jon is a bit long winded; I want to differentiate the writing when it comes to him and Becky. She is very basic pointing out who's talking and putting some emphasis on her surroundings. Jon, on the other hand, is very much consumed in his own thoughts.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

I was no stranger to the dark alleys of Gotham. The buildings towered so high at night you could hardly where they stopped and the sky started. The air around here was so full of smog and this lingering stench of burning rubber. But that was normal, right? Everything in this life needed a place, a small little corner where all the rotten parts are left to fester. Needless to say, the streets around the infamous crime alley were that corner for the Gotham, just as Gotham was to the rest of the country.

So I wasn't surprised when Eva had told me where to contact her "uncle". He was apparently a dealer and very adept in technology. I needed quite a few things for my _experiment_. Now let's see, down this corner and… it's the old condemned building, _how original_. I knock on the door; six, five, one, and eighteen times. I guess they thought I'd enjoy that. A slight motion from the other side, I assume he's looking through the peephole. An old man opened, around 60, average height, a bit bulky.

"You must be Eva's friend," he had a gruff voice, but strangely, seemed pleasant.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Antonio Adario, nice to meet you Mr. Crane," Hmm, I really don't get to hear that a lot.

"Likewise, now, Mr. Adario, do you have the items we discussed about on the phone?"

"Yeah, they're over here," He walked me past the array of technology he had stored, with bits and pieces of metal scattered around, it was a wonder he knew where my things where. One shelf held an assortment of brightly colored liquids in various containers. I moved towards them, examining the labels of each. It seems I'm not the only chemist around here.

"Oh, I recommend you don't touch those. I have a pal, Benny, and he likes to play with chemicals, but… there's no telling what he could make."

"You're storing chemicals and you don't even know what they do?" This man is old, but is he senile?

"I don't trust the concoctions, but I trust Benny." Trust? Funny, I thought that died out years ago.

"These are what you wanted right?" He brought out a heavy looking box and set it on a table. Opening it, I found myself grinning, just a bit.

"Yes, these are perfect."

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><p>"No," I yelled into the phone.<p>

"I'm sorry Ms. Albright but it's been four months, and we have other cases." The commissioner replied.

"So, you're just going to give up on her!"

"Rebecca, have you ever thought that maybe-"

"No, I'm telling you she's out there somewhere and unless I see a body, I'm not going to stop looking." Before he could even answer, I hung up and flung my cell phone to the other side of the couch.

Ever since that trial, I've been calling the police station and searching for anything that could hint at where the Mad Hatter could've taken Alice. I just don't want to give up on her. I don't want to think that coming back to Gotham after all those years was a mistake. There is justice and it will help me find Alice and lock up that madman for good.

A knock pulled me out of my thoughts. I opened the front door and saw found my superintendent with the building's handyman.

"Oh, Mr. Mason, is there something wrong?" The only time he ever comes to the tenants is when he has a bone to pick.

"Actually there is," of course, "it's been brought to my attention that the lighting hasn't been working properly, so I've brought in a professional to look over it." I didn't exactly know how an 80 year old man could possibly help with that, even if he was a professional.

"Well, sir, mine has been working just fine, so I don't think I'll need-"

"Oh no, all apartments need to be inspected. I've already sent Mr. Wallace here to inspect the other ones on this floor."

"Alright then," There really was no sense in fighting with this perfectionist. I let Mr. Wallace enter; he was a sweet man, if a bit slow while he's working.

"Oh, and while I'm here, I wanted to discuss the security upgrades you choose to have installed behind my back." I had really hoped he wouldn't notice that. They were simple alarms and a spy camera connected to my computer, but Mr. Manson always needed to make a big deal about everything.

"Mr. Mason I assure you they're…"

"I don't want to hear it; I don't want anyone tinkering with my building."

"It just that… Can we talk about this in your office?" I was a bit apprehensive leaving Mr. Wallace alone in my apartment, but what could happen in, what, five minutes?

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><p>Ms. Albright and Mr. Mason had just left. That was okay, the maintenance man preferred to work in a quiet environment, something he couldn't do with his blowhard of a boss around. He was a bit sorry to have gotten Ms. Albright in trouble; he was the one who had offered to install the devices. As he looking through the apartment and checked the wiring on the living room ceiling lights, there was a light knocking on the front door.<p>

"Hello there." There was a man there, someone he hadn't seen in the building before.

"What, who are you?"

"Its okay sir, we just need a moment in the building, that's all." Four other men came from behind him. Each carried a box with them, the main one held a cloth.

"I-you can't be in here." The poor elderly man tried to run away from them, but the intruder had come up to him and placed the cloth right over his mouth and nose. After a bit of struggling, the handyman went limp, and because of his thin frame, he was easy to carry.

"Luke, take him to his office make it look like he was sleeping."

"Does that even work, Tony?

"You'll be surprised," He started to take things out of the boxes, "Ethan make sure that Ms. Albright's with her super for as long as possible."

"Okay"

"Now guys, we have very little time so work as quickly as possible."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Friday afternoon and Becky still hasn't gotten up. She has had a hard week though, with the recapturing of all the Arkham inmates, everyone from the police to the lawyers have been working around the clock. She had a nightmare last night, I could tell by the way she tossed and turned, the way her face displayed her fears.

Oh, she's getting up. I've noticed lately that she is very consistent in her morning ritual. She stretches and wipes her eye, gets dressed, and leaves. She doesn't even eat breakfast, probably a habit she's had since she was young. It explains her thin frame.

On days that's she's off though, she's very sluggish, almost dragging her feet along. That is, until she gets a call from the office, that's when she wakes up and immediately offers to come in. Seems I have a workaholic on my hands.

She doesn't even change out of her striped pajama pants and oversized sweater when she goes to get the mail. I guess that in the time that we haven't seen one another, she's stopped being so self-conscious. She's changed.

She no longer covers herself in layers of clothing to hide her 'twisted' body. She's cut her hair, to shoulder length, it's still wild though. She wears a bit of make-up every now and again. Imagine that, plain little Becky Albright wearing make-up like a grown-up. It's sad really, how she continues to tell herself that's she's different, that she's forgotten.

And here she comes with her mail, flipping through the pile for anything important. She's casually looking through each piece with a bored expression. And then, there it is, that tattered looking envelope with a Halloween sticker seal in the shape of a pumpkin. Immediately, she knows it's from me. Question is… will she open it? Hesitantly, she holds it in her hand, an internal debate surely going back and forth. Then, she breaks the seal.

_Dear Becky,_

_It's been a long time hasn't it? It seems that you've been doing well for yourself. You have your own apartment, your dream job; you even seem to have gotten through that whole 'low self-esteem' issue. Frankly, I'm a bit hurt. It seems as if you've taken all remnants of my existence out of your life._

I'm just writing this to say that… it won't be very easy.

_An old friend_

_P.S. I would love to hear about that dream you had last night. Who is it that you don't want to see leave?_

I see her shaking, her breath shallow, and her knees weak. Where has your courage gone brave plucky Becky? How is it that a simple dab of my fear toxin can bring you down? I thought you didn't fear me.

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><p>A murderer is on the loose, and I'm starting to wonder if my lack of emotion is normal. Is it because of what happened? Or, have the years of gruesome crime evidence and dealing with the general scum of the city turned me into a true cynic? It's probably a little of both, along with the added stress of dealing with the Scarecrow.<p>

Only a few months since that trial and already he's stalking me again, no doubt do to that psycho's big mouth. He sees inside my house, judging by the postscript of that letter. Oh god, the thought of him watching me, as I sleep, as I eat, it's disgusting. What kind of sick pleasure does he get from watching me? Why is he doing this **now**, after so many years?

"Rebecca," I jumped a bit at the sound of my name. Even after all this time I still haven't gotten used to being referred to as Rebecca, even if I'm the one to insist on it. I looked up to see Commissioner Gordon standing beside me, everyone else gone.

"Are you alright? You didn't seem to be paying much attention during the briefing,"

"Oh, sorry, I guess I'm just tired." It wasn't a complete lie. I haven't been sleeping well since the letter. I keep having that nightmare.

"You seem like it, maybe you should go home." I glanced at him for a moment, dark circles under his eyes, rinkles all over. He should take his own advice, but, no, he seems to forever worry himself with the problems of the city. I wonder if I'll end up like him one day.

"I-I guess so."

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><p>When I got out of the cab that night, an ominous feeling surrounded me. It wasn't the same as with Scarecrow though, it was a more imposing and only bit less frightening. I knew this feeling. Out on the steps of the front porch, I called out. For a few minutes nothing responded, and then a black mass leapt from the roof of an adjacent building. Honestly, the guy could just walk up to me, I don't need the acrobatics.<p>

"What are you doing here?" I said a little harsher than I intended, but at the moment I didn't care. Batman had better things to do than strike up a conversation with me.

After Scarecrow's offer, Batman didn't bother with me anymore. I didn't mind, I assume it's was like that for everyone who has encountered the Dark Knight. Thanks for saving me, bye. After I started gaining more prominence though, he started coming around every once in a while. Now that I running for DA, he seems to favor me as a candidate, but a nagging voice keeps telling me that he still sees me as Scarecrow's victim.

"Commissioner Gordon told me about today." Really, has that man made it his responsibility to help out everyone in Gotham? No, that's not it; they're worried that it still affects me.

"You realize that I'm not a college student anymore, I running for district attorney now."

"And I trust you in that."

"But not to take care of myself, right." Trust me, yeah right, more like trying to keep an eye out for me. It's as if they assume that because Scarecrow thought I was villain material that I will someday become just like him. It didn't surprise me that he went to leave after that, he wasn't exactly sociable. But damned if he thought that was all I had to say. I was thinking about telling him about the Scarecrow, but decided against it.

"Look I'm hoping that one day I can be as influential as you are, and that you'll see me a partner, of sorts." He turned back, and dipped his head before leaving. I know one day they'll see me as something other than that plucky college girl. I'm going to bring down Scarecrow on my own.

"I'm home," I called once I entered the hallway. I wasn't sure whether or not he was watching me now, but for some reason, I imagined his sneer voice somewhere out there saying, "Welcome home."

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><p><strong>Long time since I uploaded, but I have not forgotten this story. In fact, I have big plans for this one. Oh, and I hope I got Batman down, I never written him before, weird huh?<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

She's been working very late the past couple of weeks. Coming home tired, dragging her feet across the threshold. The circles around her eyes are much more defined than when I started this endeavor. Obviously, I'm having an impact on her.

The letters I send every Saturday morning must not be enough though. After the first, she had started to go without getting her mail. This was fine with me. It only proved how spineless and cowardly she really was. But, after a while, she stopped dreading that weekly trip to her mailbox.

One week she just came into the apartment with a pile of letters, took the ones that were written on yellowing parchment, and read them aloud. With each letter, her voice became louder, more commanding. Even with my toxins, she stood her ground for as long as she could. Her brow furrowed and her eyes watered, but never did she utter so much as whimper.

She is brave, I will admit, but she is too defiant. If I have any chance of… changing her mind, I will have to destroy all her resolve. I need to break her, until she's willing to forget that optimistic thinking she so prides herself with. She will not be a soulless doll with no mind of her own, no; I want her to join me voluntarily.

Absorbed in my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed tha knock on my door, or the voice of my long-term acquaintance. It wasn't until I heard the soft voice of his…Alice that I went to open the door.

Sure enough, Jervis Tetch stood at my doorstep with the young woman behind him. She was timidly holding onto his arm and avoiding my gaze at all times. Such a meek little thing, it's amazing to think that she was the one to explode half of Arkham's west wing.

"Jonathan," I turned my attention back to Jervis, who, at the moment, was shooting me a 'please don't frighten her' look, "I have the devices you asked for."

"Good, I have a feeling I'll need them soon."

I lead them to my 'living room', unashamed of the large monitor that gives a live feed of Becky's apartment. I sat in my arm rest while Jervis took seat across from me on the old worn couch. Alice looked around a bit, obviously unsure of whether or not to sit.

"Alice, dear, there's no need to be frightened," Jervis told her soothingly.

"I'd rather stand," she replied. No sooner had she said that, a sharp ding came from the kitchen.

"Oh, I forgot that I was brewing some coffee."

"I'll be glad to get it for you, if you like," Alice immediately offered.

"Thank you." I let her go fetch coffee for the three of us, it was clear she didn't want to be in my presence for too long.

* * *

><p>I wasn't sure what he would think when I practically ran around the corner. Probably that I was scared of him, well, he wouldn't too off the mark. I know I was the one who insisted on coming out with Jervis, but honestly, I didn't know what I was asking for. After being stuck in the apartment that Jervis and I share for months, I really just needed to get out.<p>

Still, I guess I'm glad that I came. For the longest time, I've actually wanted to meet the Scarecrow, even with all the stories about him. I remember when Ms. Albright told me about him, what he did, and thinking of how it was like my experience. I kind of wanted to ask him why he did it. But that wasn't going to happen if I tensed up every time I looked at him.

I poured the coffee into three mugs, and just as I was about to add some sugar, I remembered that I don't know how he likes his coffee. Well, I guess now's a better time than ever to talk to him. With a deep breath to calm my nerves, I peeked out the corner and asked, "How do you like you're coffee?"

"With cream and three spoons of sugar." I was surprised for a moment, and then I let out a small smile. That was the same way Ms. Albright took her coffee, and no matter how silly it sounds, it felt nice to hear that order again. I put the drinks on a serving tray that I found on the counter, and left the kitchen.

When I came back, I saw Scarecrow sitting in front of his computer monitor, and Jervis standing behind him.

"Jonathan, I'm not sure that this is…"

"You're not exactly one to talk Jervis."

I set the coffee down on a table and walked up to them. I gasped; Ms. Albright was on the screen and her voice was heard from a speaker. Oh, she looked terrible, her hair was disheveled and she was screaming into a phone.

"I can't believe you're giving up on her! No, that's exactly what you're doing! Just because she wasn't rich or influential, you're tossing her to the curb! Do what you want, but I'm not just going to forget Alice!"

I've never heard her yell like that.

"I didn't know she was so worried about me." I felt both Jervis and the Scarecrow turn towards me.

"She calls every week, to check the police progress," Scarecrow said. I was on the verge of tears when I heard that. I didn't mean to make her so upset, I just did what I felt was best for me. I wish I could tell her I was okay…

"Dr. umm, Scare…"

"You can call me Jonathan if you wish," he smiled. Well, it wasn't really a smile, at least, not one people usually think of. It was slight and only to one side, like the kind Ms. Albright would give me when she told me there was nothing wrong with her, even when there was.

"Alright, Jonathan, would it be okay if… you could deliver a letter to her, from me?" he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I just, I want to tell her that I'm safe, that I'm happy." There was a silence while he thought it over. I hope he says yes, I can't do it myself.

"Sure, why not."

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><p>It's already eleven, I really should get up. But I just know that there'll be another letter just waiting for me. The last one I got just mocked me for my 'brave little stunt' and threw it in my face that he's constantly watching me. Personally, I like to compare it to a romance, where the male lead watches his love from a far, showers her with gifts, and writes her poems declaring his love.<p>

Except mine is far more disturbing and twisted. He writes not to make me love him, but to make me fear him by taunting me with his knowledge of my week, detailing the clothes I wore, quoting me word for word on any given occasion. Instead of flowers or jewelry, he sends little trinkets to make me break, like the dog tag he sent to remind me of the dog he murdered, or the mask he had wanted me to wear all those years ago.

I'm starting to get tired of it. Why doesn't he just kidnap, kill, or want ever else he wants from me. It because he's scared, I just know it. Imagine that, the scary Scarecrow afraid of me. I smirk a little before rolling out of bed and throwing on a jacket to get the mail. Better late than never, I guess.

I walk out into the hall and down the stairs. Usually, I don't like the stairs, considering the fact that I have to be careful when using my cane. Still, I don't want to have to ride on the elevator, just in case there are others on it. I live on the second floor, so it's not too much of a bother anyway. Plus, it means I can go get my mail with little risk of toxins getting to anyone else.

Pulling my key out from my jacket pocket (I've stopped trying to guess how scarecrow gets in), I open the mail box. Only three letters today… but none of them are written in parchment. I look at the first and see something I didn't expect. A clean envelope addressed to me, written in a familiar cursive script.

I close the mail box, and rush up to my apartment as quickly as possible. I practically slam my front door shut behind me and slide down to the floor. My legs were throbbing from too much exertion, but I didn't care. I had to read my letter… from Alice.

_Dear Ms. Albright,_

_I wanted to let you know that I'm alright. I wasn't kidnapped or tortured or anything. Despite what you might think, I chose to leave. Please don't be angry at Jervis or Eva, they helped me realize what was missing in my life. I love them both, especially Jervis. And I love you too; you were like a big sister to me. I thought you really understood me, even though no one else would. Just know that I'm happy, and that I don't want to you to keep looking for me._

_Love Alice_

_P.S. I know why you didn't want to talk about your experience with the Scarecrow. He's really frightening. But, and don't hate me for saying this, he smiles like you._

Smile? The Scarecrow does not smile! And he certainly does not smile like me! What are those monsters possibly doing to her? They must be brainwashing her, forcing her to write this, to lie to me.

"What the hell's wrong with you! You're not happy with just me! You have to bring an innocent person into this too!"

I yelled and I shouted until my voice went hoarse. He was going to regret this time; he was going to regret all of this.

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><p><strong>Long chapter this time, I real wish summer could come earlier, so I could spend more time on this.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry about the long wait but the well is drying up, and I may just need some encouragement, so how's about a review.**

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><p>How long have I been at this? Let's see, there were the two months it took me to get out of Arkham once I had found out Becky was here. Then there was the extra three months of surveying her, so I'm up to five months with almost nothing on my mind but Becky Albright.<p>

The idiots back in Arkham would probably call this an obsession, and though, it pains me to admit it, that seems to be true. I know that I constantly say that this type of experiment takes time to produce results, but frankly, I getting tired of waiting. It's funny; I'm not even sure what I'm waiting for in the first place. This whole ordeal has made me question my own sanity, something that should be happening to Becky.

A knock on the door brought me back from my musings. I lifted myself from my seat, my legs a bit weak from disuse. Looking through the peephole, I saw the face of the Riddler in his signature attire. It was nighttime, but I still found it amazing how he can wear that suit all the time. I assume he had many versions of the same suit in his closet.

I opened the door for the green-clad man, hoping he'd tell me what he wants and leave.

"Hello, Jonny." He walked straight past me, and found himself a place on my couch. Evidently this would be one of **those** types of visits.

"Edward," I acknowledged but didn't greet. Though he is one of the few people I would call a friend, he was oftentimes… annoying.

"How long have you been out of Arkham?" I asked, sitting opposite him. I didn't want to show it, but I have been bored lately, Becky hasn't had any significant reaction to any of my letters.

"A few months ago," he sat back, making himself comfortable, "I took a page from your book and paid off an orderly to pretend I'm still in my cell."

"Did you do the same for Eva?" he visibly stiffened.

"How did you-"

"I heard about the stolen emerald necklace last night," there was no report of a riddle, but I could tell the type of heist Edward would risk, "the jeweler said that his assistant peeled off her skin and became a Mexican woman."

Eva was known for her convincing disguises and well-researched acting, and she was not above working with the Riddler, someone who she disliked, if it meant a good pay off.

"He's obviously a very senile old man," Edward replied indignantly, "Eva's clearly El Salvadorian."

I rolled my eyes. Edward wasn't one to team up with people he hasn't known for years, so he was a bit reluctant to admit that he needed help.

"So how has your little experiment been going?" He was quick to change the subject. Luckily for him, it was a subject I was quite interested in.

"She lost District Attorney," It was the last noteworthy event that occurred. Just last week they had announced the results. Poor girl was heartbroken, so I sent her a little card as a pick-me-up. Unfortunately, she tore it up without even reading it.

"How's she taking it?"

"Very well, actually," In truth, the day she found out she down quite a few bottles of beer, I hadn't even been aware that she drank, so that was something. I continued to list other certain changes in her behavior, but as usual, Edward simply nodded without listen. Unlike, usual he didn't interrupt, or change the conversation to himself.

"Is there any reason for your visit Edward?"

"Oh, Jonny, is there something wrong with a man dropping by to see an old friend?" I raised an eyebrow and him, he didn't seem to remember that I was a former psychiatrist, and thus knew everything about him.

"Alright, I just wanted to borrow a bit of your fear toxin."And there it is.

"Why, exactly?"

"The usual, heists, threats," he paused for a second, "stealing front row tickets to a sold out show, that sort of thing," he added under his breath. Again I looked at him, knowing there was something he wasn't telling me.

"It's just a little gift for my… partner." He had a slight smile on his face like the time he had dragged me along to a meeting he had with a crime boss. It had been at a lewd strip club.

"Ugh, I see now," cringing at the thought of his actions with Eva.

"Jon, it was only-"

"Please, don't give me any details, just take the second canister on the shelf behind you," I waved him off. Unlike the majority of my sex, I found no pleasure in recounting my… escapades. He took the canister, but instead of leaving, he leaned on the side of my armchair.

"You know, maybe if **you** got laid you wouldn't be such a prude, though I see you already have a target in mind." Honestly, he talks as if he does this often.

"I don't need relationship advice from a narcissist who is only capable of loving himself."

"I was only talking about one night; I didn't think you already loved her." He put one hand on his hip and waved the other absentmindedly.

"Edward, you're smart enough to know that that was not what I meant." I scowled; he has the nerve to actually twist my words, everyone knows **that** was my territory.

"Well, I would think that you're smart enough to know how to court a woman."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Breaking her spirit is all well and good, but if you really want her to be yours, you'll need to confuse her."

"Confuse her how, exactly?" It's not as if I was really listening to Edward, but he may be on to something.

"Well, so far, what have you been doing?"

"Writing her letters laced with powdered fear toxin to mentally toy with her and release her pent up emotions."

"Regular lady killer aren't you?" He said sarcastically, "That may get her to start seeing the world as darkly as you do, but that doesn't mean she'll actually join you.

"And what do you propose?" I'm probably making a big mistake.

"How about I send her a letter myself," he offered. Well, it wasn't the worst idea, and the one Alice had sent her had been very effective. Maybe a letter from an outsider in this situation could be just the influence I need on her.

"There's no harm in trying."

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><p>Another week, another letter. Is it sad that I'm getting used to this? Should I be worried about how I'm not worried? I have a lot of vacation days piled up; maybe I'll get out of the city for a while. I could go to the country. I've always loved the country, the air is so fresh, the sky is filled with stars, and the only noise you have to worry about is the occasional cricket.<p>

No, even with the smog, the light, and the racket, I couldn't be away from Gotham for too long. This city needed me, even if it didn't want me. Yes, I had lost the running for DA, but that didn't stop me, it just gave me one more reason to keep fighting.

The first step in that fight today though, would have to be getting the mail. I braced myself for whatever the Scarecrow may have in store, and walk down the stairs to the mailboxes. I had left my cane in the apartment, I still needed it, but for some reason, I really didn't want to use it.

I opened up my mailbox, such a mundane task that always brought a shiver up my spine. Normally, I wouldn't expect much besides the letters or another one of Scarecrow manipulative gifts. So when I reached in and heard the crunch of old leaves my eyes immediately shot wide open. A bouquet of yellow roses was in the box. This, this wasn't one of the Scarecrow's usually tricks.

I looked over the first letter in my mailbox; it was in the same parchment that the Scarecrow wrote to me in. But instead of an ironically bright Halloween sticker seal, there was a big green question mark.

A letter from the Riddler? What did I do to deserve that? As if one rogue writing me wasn't enough, now I have two Arkham pen pals. I let out a sigh, I didn't feel any fear toxin effects, so I assumed it was safe to open out here.

_Dear Ms. Albright_

_I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you in person, but from what Jonathan tells me, you're a brave woman. Running for district attorney in such a troubled city like Gotham must have taken its toll. Still, it seems your efforts were all to waste, what a pity._

_You may be confused as to why I'm writing this letter to you, and I don't blame you. It's just… Jonathan can't seem to take his mind off you. I'm a bit jealous actually, that you would steal away my dearest friend. Nonetheless, you seem like a good influence on him._

_Sincerely_

_Edward Nigma_

_P. S._

_I know Jonny seems a bit cold, but if you get a bit of spiked apple cider in him, he gets a bit livelier. Just a little tip._

I frowned. What exactly did the Scarecrow hope to gain from this? Did he want to show me that he actually had friends, or was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? I had many questions in my head at that moment, but the biggest one at the moment was… What did the flowers mean? Were they from the Riddler or the Scarecrow? Did they mean friendship or fear?

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><p><strong>Look at Eddie trying to be a wingman, the guy thinks he's a player. Oh, and about the Eva Edward thing, it's a part of my other story The Riddler and the Rose, so go check that out. Okay, shameless self-promotion over.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Becky was acting out. It seems odd to say that about a grown woman, but lately, she hasn't been behaving like her usual self. She no longer reads my letters, and she has gotten into the habit of going out in the evening and not coming back until late in the morning. She had taken a few weeks off work, and now she spent her days outside the house.

I wasn't quite sure how I felt about all this. Becky is obviously avoiding me, but I'm actually surprised that she hasn't done it sooner. I had expected her to leave within a month or two of the experiment. But what would I do then? Follow her across the country, watch her change her identity? What have I been reduce to? I'm a man with no other focus in life than a woman who hates him.

It was four in the morning and Becky had barely just gotten home. She was currently asleep, her thin limbs sprawled out on her bed, not even bothering to change or get under the sheets. I was feeling very tired myself, every so often dozing off in front of my computer monitor. I would have completely fallen asleep if it weren't for the bothersome knocking at my front door.

Too tired to really check who it was, I simply opened the door. I was sure that if it were someone with malicious intents, I could simply reach for the nearest canister of fear gas. Unfortunately for me, the person on the other side was far less pleasant at the moment. A casually dressed Eva Torrez stood on my porch. How do these rogues find their way to my hideout, and why do they insist on the most inopportune time to drop by?

"Hi Jonny," she smiled, far too cheerfully for someone awake so early. I had no time to deal with her, so I did the first thing to come to mind. I shut the door in her face. In a split second though, she stopped it with her foot.

"Okay, that was a little rude," her pout was playful, and frankly, aggravating.

"Sorry, I meant for it to be outright offensive."I slumped back to my monitor, not really caring whether she stayed or left.

"Why so glum and I mean more than usual?" She shut the door behind her, I guess she was staying.

"Why so interested?"

"No real reason." She leaned up against my seat, looking over my shoulder to see what I was doing.

"So you're just here to bother me?"

"Pretty much," she grinned, "Isn't that Rebecca Albright?"

"Yes, you're uncle provided some very good surveillance equipment."

"You're spying on her," she started to laugh, "Jon that's so pervy."

"I don't need your opinion on the matter." Even with my sharp tone, Eva continued to look at my computer screen with curiosity.

"Oh, she looks like she's been through a tornado," she seemed sincerely surprised at Becky's condition, I hadn't expected that, "maybe she'll go to Oz." Now that quip, I should've seen coming.

"Very amusing, now if you will get off of my chair," I wasn't in the mood to deal with her jokes.

"Of course, you don't have to tell me twice, **I** have a brain," she responded gleefully, and started to hum to the Wizard of Oz tune, 'If I only had a brain' as she went into the kitchen.

"But no sense of self-preservation, evidently."

I turned back to the monitors, surprised that Becky was now awake. I stared while she made herself a pot of coffee. Was she planning to go out again? Almost as if she had read my thoughts, she responded to me.

"I'm not leaving," her tired voice sounded gravelly through the speakers, "not yet, at least."

"Is she talking to you?" I turned to my right, unaffected by Eva's sudden appearance.

"Yes, she does that every once in a while." She had, in fact, started to refer to me as Crane. It was a simple development, but it held a lot of meaning. Instead of calling me the Scarecrow, someone she could easily demonize and despise, she was now choosing to see me as a person, and thus, gives me a human name.

"Have you ever responded?"

"I'm sure Edward has told you about the letters."

"Yeah, but I meant through the bug," Eva pushed her way to the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" I cried, trying to shove her away. Her arm accidently landed on the keyboard, and produced a clicking sound.

"Um, I think I turned it on," She backed way, looking like a frightened child in trouble. And there would certainly be good reason to be so scared if what she says is true.

"Well, how do you turn it off!"

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><p>My head was throbbing and the caffeine in my coffee was doing no favors to my shaking nerves. This plan may just kill me before the Scarecrow does. That is, if he really wants to kill me, I haven't really figured out what he's concocting in that twisted mind of his. Either way, I had decided to take matters into my own hands.<p>

For the past few weeks, I've been going to a motel for much of the night, and checking out extremely early. I don't go out to clubs or bars, it really wasn't my thing, but if I could make Crane think I was that type of girl… well I don't know, but something was going to happen.

I'm tired of getting exposed to his chemicals, tired of reading his taunts and sneers, and I'm definitely tired of waiting for him to finally show himself. I would have to make him come to me, or follow me maybe; I just want him to do something.

I let out a groan; the change in my sleep patterns was taking its toll on me. I think I'm even hearing things.

'What are you doing?' My head shot up. No, I-I wasn't hearing things. That was Crane's voice.

'Um, I think I turned it on.' A woman's voice also echoed through my apartment. Who was that? And why are their voices so faint?

'Well how do you turn it off?' Crane was angry about something; I could tell he was yelling. Oh, but why was it so quiet?

'That should turn the mike off,' the woman said again, the voices were now clearer and much louder. I recognized that voice, it belonged to Eva Torrez.

'Just get out before you mess up my research any further?' Research? Was he talking about me?

'Is that all you see her as?'

'Excuse me?' ' I was listening into the conversation carefully, hanging onto every word. This woman, Eva, was voicing the questions I wish I could ask.

'Do you just see her as research? Or as just another person to get revenge from?'

'This is none of your business.'

'Because, revenge doesn't explain you taking so much time with her, and research doesn't explain you sending her letters and trinkets. If that was really what you wanted, you would have kidnapped, tortured, and killed her a long time ago.' Answer her Crane, answer **me**.

'That is far too simple a fate for her.' That is not it! Give me the real answer!

'Or maybe you don't even really want to kill her' I heard a smash like one from glass being dropped on the ground one second, and then a shouting Scarecrow at the other end.

'Get out!' There was a 'click' and I could no longer hear a sound. After a few minutes, it seemed as if he wasn't watching me, so I walked back to bed.

I didn't know what to think at the moment, there was too much to process right now. All I knew was that tomorrow, I'd spend the day at home. I don't think that I need to go out to get his attention anymore.

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><p>Outside the scarecrow's hideout, Eva had taken refuge in an alley near the building. She pulled out a cell phone from her jacket pocket, and made a call.<p>

"How'd it go," the Riddler's voice asked from the other side of the line.

"He threw a cup of coffee at me."

"But did you turn on the mike like we planned?"

"Yeah, Becky can hear everything Jonny does now."

"This should lead to some interesting developments."

"Yeah, this is going to be fun."

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><p><strong>Oh my God, I have to draw a picture for this story. Why didn't FF.N send me an E-mail or something, I love the idea of giving this a cover. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to draw something (hopefully) awesome.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**A bit of warning before you read, this chapter may contain things that are a bit… mature. It's nothing too graphic so I don't think it warrants an M rating, but I may be wrong.**

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><p>I've been listening in on the Scarecrow for about a week now, and he still describes me as his 'experiment'. It's sickening to think that this man was watching my every move… and I do mean my <strong>every move<strong>.

'It's Friday night, Becky is still off work until Monday. The lack of stimulus is obvious, she is sluggish and without purpose.'

I don't know what's worst, him silently observing me or him taking notes out loud.

'There was been no significant difference in her behavior.'

If my life is so boring, why don't you stop watching it every day and night and leave me alone?

'A traumatic experience may be needed to bring about any change.'

A traumatic experience? I've had enough to last me a lifetime, and he still thinks I need more? What exactly is he planning to do to me?

I stand up from my couch, tired of having to hear myself being referred to as a test subject.

"I'm going out," I yelled, knowing that he was still listening. Then, an idea popped into my head. "Bye, Jonathan."

It felt so weird to be calling him that. It was such a common name for such a rare monster. I didn't know if it was the kind of significant change he wanted to hear, but it was worth a try. I just want something to happen.

'She said my name' was all I heard before a click signaled that he was no longer listening in. Sighing, I tossed a bag over my shoulder and picked up my cane. I really did need to get some fresh air anyway.

I don't know why I'm still trying to handle this on my own. I could easily tell Commissioner Gordon or even Batman about the Scarecrow. But, I don't. I don't want to tell them anything. Why? Because I'm just as obsessed with the Scarecrow, as he is with me? It makes sense, for the past few months, I couldn't pay attention to anything but him.

No, I couldn't start thinking like that.

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. There's no reason to start questioning my sanity just yet. I haven't lost my mind.

Looking up, I saw that I had walked about four blocks from my house. I haven't been walking for long, but I guess it's better to just go home now.

A sudden crash came from behind me. I tensed up and listened carefully, I hoping that it was just noise from a stray animal. But no, I'm never that lucky.

"Hey," a gruff voice called out from an alleyway. I turned around to find a very thin, dirty man stumbling over to me. He was obviously intoxicated and didn't seem too strong. Still, I wasn't one to judge on appearances. I stood my ground, gripping my cane tightly in case he made a move.

"What'cha doin' out here all alone," he slurred out. I really didn't want to have to deal with a drunken bum right now. When he took a step towards me, I took one back and prepared myself to run if I needed to. Once I did that though, I felt the presence of another, much larger man.

"Yah, it's dangerous out on the street," he spoke in a low growl and grabbed hold of my arms. I struggled, kicking and clawing at anything I could reach.

"Especially for a weak little thing like you." The other man had gotten nearer, and he was starting to examine me. He held my chin in his disgusting hands, and moved his face so close I could smell the cheap liquor on his breath. His expression was twisted into a nauseating pleased grin.

"Hey, I know this one," he looked straight into my eyes and I stared right back. I've faced worst than him, "she's a lawyer."

"Almost sent me to Blackgate too, guess this'll be even more fun," the guy behind me let go for a moment, only for the other to force my coat off. It was disgusting and vile to have this freak's slimy paws all over me.

"Let go of me." I punched him right in the gut. He, in return, slapped me across the face. Paying no attention to the sting, I continued to fight. There was no way in hell I was giving up.

"Hold her arms." I was pinned to the ground roughly, my head actually banged painfully onto the concrete. I was scared. I was actually showing fear to these low-life creeps.

"Help, help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs hoping someone, anyone, would hear me. I tried to ignore the entire thing; the roaming hands, their snickering voices, the look of horror that must be written all over my face. I needed someone. I needed a savior.

"Jonathan!" I stopped struggling for a moment.

Did I actually call out for him? Was I really thinking of that monster during **this**? I can't believe this, I am really that desperate?

In anger, I tried kicking the man one more time, and I was able to hit his knee. It only succeeded in making him irritated.

"You little," he raised his arm, and I stared back at him, no fear in my eyes. If I could stand up to the Scarecrow, this was nothing. I braced myself for the contact, but it never came. Instead, I saw his face contort in fear, and he backed away. I heard the man holding me choke, and he let go of me immediately.

"It's the bat," the thinner man cried, pulling out a pocket knife from his worn jacket.

I turned around to see Batman with his arms around what little neck the hulking attacker had. Most people would've been relieved to have the Dark Knight of Gotham save them. I wasn't. If anything, I was even more frightened at the idea of him seeing me than I was about being attacked.

As soon as I saw him be flung into a brick wall, with the assailants no longer paying attention to me, I ran as quickly as my weak legs could carry me. The last thing I remember seeing was a bunch of other brutes gathering around to gang up on him.

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><p>It's close to midnight, and Becky still hasn't come home. What could she have possibly been doing outside for almost an hour? I thought she was past the stage of defiance, that she was beginning adapt a slightly more passive-aggressive stance. It would've taken only a few more months to completely get her into a submissive state.<p>

I paced back and forth, glancing at the computer monitor at the slightest sound. For some reason I felt… apprehensive, as if something was wrong. These feelings are hardly ever off, I've had many years in my line of work and it's an instinct that I can't just ignore.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the front door open. Becky came home panting and looking extremely pale. Her dress was torn at the bottom and at one sleeve, the coat she had wearing before was missing. Sliding down the shut door, she started crying into her trembling hands.

"A-are you h-happy now?" She was stuttering, trying anything to keep her composure.

"Becky," I heard myself choke out. I watched the once brave woman cry to herself, not caring whether I saw her or not. I had always wanted to see that, to see her broken, but I always wanted it to be me who finally took over her mind.

"Are you happy that you're test subject has finally experienced enough trauma," How could she-, "because I could hear everything you said, and I know that's what you wanted."

I was shocked for a moment, but then I realized… the microphone.

"Well, I was just attacked by some thugs and almost raped," She tried to stand, "Is that enough trauma for you?" She swung her head around madly, as if she was trying to find me, to glare at me with all the hatred she had pent up. "Are you finally going to show up?"

Then, she collapsed, the strain on both her mind and her body too much to handle. She was distressed, if someone didn't come to help her soon… I don't what might happen. Despite my better judgment, I left to get her.

I don't remember the drive. All I recall was rushing through the doors of her apartment building, going up the stairs, and opening her front door.

She laid there, completely unconscious, splayed about like a ragdoll flung on to the floor. Pale, thin, and small, she hadn't changed since the last time I saw her. I was hesitant at first, about picking her up; she seemed so delicate that the slightest touch might shatter her. Still, I scooped her into my arms, easily carrying her across the threshold.

Leaving the building was not like getting in; it was slower, as if each breath I took was another hour wasted. I looked toward the front desk, a man sat frozen with an expression of pure terror. Did I do that? I don't remember. All I knew at the time was that I was holding the bane of my life for the past ten years in my arms.

The taunting and questioning about the plucky college student still rang sharply in my head. The look of defiance in her eyes was burned into my mind, and I wished nothing more than to see those eyes widen in fear. But now that I have her in my grasp, weak and broken, and I realize something.

I don't know what to do with her.

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><p><strong>I'm sorry about this, it's probably the darkest thing I've ever written, but I felt that it would move the story along well. Again, I'm sorry if it made anyone uncomfortable, but in my defense it is a story about the <strong>_**Scarecrow**_**.**


	9. Chapter 9

Did I pass out? I don't remember going to bed. So why am I in one? Oh, my head is spinning, I feel nauseous, and I don't think I'm alone. The Scarecrow was here, I could feel him in the room with me.

I couldn't look at him. I was scared. For months, all I worried about were the letters and him watching me. But that was all he did. He watched me. Now, I actually have to face him again, I have to look at him straight in the eye and say I'm not scared. It's real now, just like before.

I take the chance and open my eyes. In the dim light of the small room, I saw him. He wasn't wearing his mask this time or the ragged suit stuffed with straw, but I knew it was him. He almost looked… normal. He was tall and lanky, with messy brown hair and eyes the same sickening green as his fear gas.

"Hello Becky." He still had the same voice as before. Deep, menacing, as if he was actually trying to sound that way. I backed up into the corner of the wall, the weak springs of the single bed creaking underneath. It felt strangely familiar, this scene, me trembling at the sight of him, while he did nothing but stand there.

"Where am I?" I tried to hide any traces of fear in my voice. I didn't work.

"Somewhere... quiet." His cold voice echoed in my ears. We were all alone, no police, no batman. No one was going to stop this.

"You kidnapped me," I said, holding on to the bit of confidence that I still had. He didn't answer me, not that I had expected him to.

"Why?"

"You were unconscious," he said simply.

"And you didn't just leave me for dead?" There was no reason for it. Sure, taking me, torturing me, it would've feed his strange obsession with fear. But if that were the case, why didn't he just do that from the beginning?

I glared at him, finding the courage that I had been gathering since I first met him.

"What exactly do you want from me?" I yelled out, "It's been ten years; I would've thought that you'd have forgotten about me by now."

"Forgotten? About you? Now, why would you think that?" He stepped closer, mocking me, toying with me like him always does.

"Don't look at me like that!" I could look him in the eye now, "This isn't a game and I'm not you're plaything!" I could scream out my contempt. "I want a straight answer from you, damn it!" But despite that, I couldn't bare the idea of him being so close to me.

"You were afraid," he was leering at me now, "I can see it in your eyes. **You** were **afraid** that I had forgotten about you."

He came closer and closer, and before I knew it, he had grabbed my right arm. His hand was rough but… warmer that I had expected. No, I couldn't let him get to me.

"Let go of me you horrible, pretentious..." I struggled, but his grip tightened, and pulled me up towards him until our faces were inches apart.

"Answer me this Becky, why didn't you call the police as soon as you got the first letter, hmm? Why did you come to me after you where attacked, when you fully expected me to do nothing?"

I could feel my face heat up… in anger, he was just so close. The place where his hand held onto my wrist was starting to burn.

"It's because you hoped I'd do something, isn't' that right? You look at me with hatred, but I can see what you really wanted."

I could practically feel his breath on my, and before I could even think twice, I spat at him. He immediately let go, his shock quickly turning into a glare. For a second, I feared the worst, but then he just left the room in a huff.

I didn't want to have to imagine what he would do when he came back. I looked across the room. There was a window beside the bed, but it was only about as high as my arms could reach. As quickly as I could, I move the bed so that to could reach it. I went to open it, but then… I stopped myself.

Even I did leave, he would just keep following me. The Scarecrow will always be there, he would always be a part of my life. No matter what I did, we'd still be the same. We'd be outcasts in the world, desperately trying to find a way to numb the pain from our pasts.

He understood my pain…

* * *

><p>I couldn't believe it; she had actually had the gall to spit in my face. And me, just running away from her. This was ridiculous; <strong>I'm<strong> supposed to have the upper hand, not her. I am far past simple psychological ploys; I should be using my toxins by now.

Yes, it's been so long since I've used them. So long since I've heard the screams of terror and fright, and Becky would be a perfect candidate for one of my newest serums.

I had developed it a while back. It brings out a person's fear, just like my other toxins, except this one has a unique twist. Almost like a truth serum, it forces the person to answer any questions, for fear of having to face their deepest phobias. At least, that's what it's supposed to do; I haven't had the chance to test it. But who better that Becky?

Going to the room next to Becky's, which I had modified into a makeshift laboratory, I found the vile of toxin. Just as I finished pouring the liquid into a syringe, a loud crash came from Becky's room.

I ran out, opening her room's door furiously… and stopped for a second. She was on the bed, which had been pushed near the window, her hands bloodied and covered with shards of glass. When she saw me, she immediately took the largest shard from the bed and pointed it to herself.

I had no idea whether she would actually harm herself, but I didn't wait to find out.

"Stop that!" I yelled, running up to her and knocking the shard from her hand. She was lividly fighting back, punching my chest despite the glass in her palms.

"Why do you care? You're just going to kill me anyway, so go ahead and do it" she was yelling out, her face twisted in anger, "Cut me up, frighten me to death, do whatever you want, because frankly, I don't care anymore."

"What I want is for you to answer me," I growled, pushing her onto the bed. Taking the syringe that was still my left hand, I pressed it into her neck slowly, watching as her look of defiance gradually slipped into a slight pained expression.

"Now, tell me, tell me what you've been holding back all this time." I need to know everything, absolutely everything.

"I not afraid of you," she said, turning her head to the side. The serum wasn't working like I had planned. She was supposed to be screaming in horror. Then again, it was very close to the powder that I had placed on her letters, and she had grown practically immune to that.

"I already knew that." I didn't getting angry when the fear toxin didn't take. I still had her pinned to the mattress so that she couldn't escape. I was going to get an answer.

"But, do you know what it's like... to be followed everywhere you go? To always be under the magnifying glass, to always be the weak pathetic person who can't take care of themselves."

Her words were full of disdain, of complete and utter hatred.

"I made you feel that way."

"No," She looked me in the eye. There was a pain there, one I hadn't seen since I was a child looking at my own reflection.

"Batman, the police, the city, they never trusted me. I would do everything to gain respect, acknowledgement, but it would always feel like I'm back at school. They never liked me, never had faith in me, but unlike the monsters that tormented me, they didn't have the guts to tell me what they thought of me to my face."

We said nothing to each other for a while. We just stayed in that position, Becky beneath me, I on top of her. Then, she spoke again.

"So what does that mean?"

For a moment, I didn't understand her question, but I realized what she wanted to hear.

"You a lot of hatred, a lot of pain," I told her plainly

"Well, I could've guessed that," she whispered. Her voice was weak. I lowered my head until I was so close that I could see, but feel, her blushing. She didn't turn away; in fact, she seemed to want to be closer. This was my chance, she was finally ready.

"Then use that, use that anger, that pain. Do what you didn't do back then, and become my Mistress of Fear."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. I just wasn't sure where to go with the story. Rest assured there is much more planned for this fic.<strong>


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